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As soon as she sees her, Steph turns on her heel and flees before she’s spotted.
She finds Robin in one of the bedrooms, gathered around a SingStar mic and belting out Fountains of Wayne. Steph takes Robin by the wrist and drags her away, giving her just enough time to snag her drink.
She knows she’s not making the best impression, but she’s on the verge of a crisis. She drags Robin through the packed flat, looking for somewhere quiet.
There’s a queue outside of the bathroom, so that’s out of the question, and there are people spread out in every single bedroom. Steph drags her into the kitchen, hoping that it will be quiet, but finds a bunch of people gathered by the window as they smoke.
Robin knows her well enough not to question her, staying quiet and following along up until Steph drags her to the front door.
“Wait, are we leaving?”
Steph huffs, struggling with the latch. “No, shit. Just—just hold on.”
It seems risky to talk on the landing right outside the flat, so she leads Robin up the stairs to the next floor, then sits down on the top step.
Robin sits down next to her, still clutching onto her water bottle full of rum and coke.
“So,” Robin says, holding the bottle out to Steph.
Steph takes a healthy swig before handing it back.
“Okay, so,” she starts, looking down at her knees. It’s easier than looking Robin in the eye when she says, “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
“Oh my god! I knew you were seeing someone! Shit, is he here?"
Steph scoffs.
“No, Rob. I’m not hiding some guy from you, okay? It’s something…else.”
Robin makes a soft sound of confusion before she moves to sit on a lower step and bring her leg up. Getting comfortable before gesturing for Steph to start talking.
She takes a deep breath, gaze back on her lap. She pinches at the hem of her babypink minidress.
“There’s, uh. There’s this girl I know from work.”
“Okay?”
“And she’s here. She’s at this party.”
“…okay.”
“And—shit. Okay, I’m just gonna start from the beginning, and then you can tell me if I’m losing my mind, okay?”
“Okay.”
——— ONE ———
It’s only her second night working, but Steph can already confidently say that she is not a good shot girl.
Brenner Inc. is its own company, run by a guy Steph has been told she’s likely to never meet in person. The company partners with a handful of clubs, sending pretty girls to sell the venue's alcohol to the patrons at a huge markup. Most of the money made goes back to the venue; most of the rest goes to the guy who owns the company; and then whatever is left over, she gets to keep.
(Robin keeps insisting that Steph’s job is some sort of pyramid scheme, and Steph keeps insisting that it’s not because, sure, that might be how it's structured, but it’s not like she really needed to buy in with some big monetary commitment. The only thing was a black, off-the-shoulder dress from Amazon Basics that they all have to wear.)
She’s lucky, because the fact that she’s bad at it isn’t too much of a big deal. Like, she might work solely on commission, but her parents are covering her rent and tuition, so all she really needs is spending money.
Admittedly, she was expecting to be better at it. She’s a great salesperson. She won Robin—one of her flatmates who hated her—over when they were working together at Scoops in first semester because Steph was pulling in so many tips that she agreed to just start splitting them equally. So between her ‘generosity’ and the time they accidentally got locked in overnight, she managed to make a friend for life.
But she hadn’t really considered that what made her time scooping ice cream so much easier than peddling shots was that people came to her. Or rather, people walked into Scoops already wanting ice cream, so all Steph had to do was smile and be friendly, and she was getting tipped.
This job is different because no one wants what she’s selling.
And because no one wants what she’s selling, she has to actually sell it to them. She can’t just stand there and smile; she has to approach people and try to convince them that they want her apple-flavoured test tube of sugar, and then keep a straight face when she tells them how much it costs. Then she has to awkwardly hang around and try to get the test tubes back before they get the chance to crunch them underfoot.
It’s just… She’s not used to having to win people over. Not used to not being liked automatically.
Her first night was last night, when she was put on shift with another girl she’d seen at the recruitment evening, and the other newbie had blown her sales out of the fucking water.
When it came to the end of the night and their shift supervisor was tallying up how much they sold and how much they owed, she had actually asked Steph if she’d sold a full bottle, and this was her second, while Steph just blinked at her.
So she didn’t do well, but she enjoyed herself more than she was expecting. She gained a few new followers on Instagram and walked home with more money in her pocket than she earned for a full day of work at Scoops. And all she had to do was spend three hours walking around and shimmying her shoulders to 00’s throwbacks, looking hot.
She picks at her nail polish as she sits on the old sofa in the staff room at tonight’s venue, waiting for the other girls she’ll be working with to show up. She’s still riding the high of getting to cut past the line outside the building.
Steph took her sweatpants off the second she’d arrived, so she’s been ready to go in her little dress and heels for what feels like ages. Has been sitting still for so long that her freshly-waxed legs are covered in goosebumps.
Brenner’s message in tonight’s group chat said that it was meant to be a big event, so sales should be good. Told them all to go full glam with the makeup.
She hasn’t told her parents the specifics of her job, because even though Steph’s actually using the tools of beauty that her mother taught her, she knows she’d have something mean to say. She’s already annoyed that Steph hasn’t managed to find a stable boyfriend yet—throwing a wrench into her mother’s dreams about her being engaged by the time she graduates—so she can only imagine hearing that her only daughter is spending her weekends flirting with people while trying to sell them toxic sludge won't make her very happy.
She perks up when the door opens, smiling at the two girls that walk in. One strawberry blonde and petite, the other brunette with a laugh that makes Steph’s heart stutter.
The one with the incredible laugh looks over, and when she spots Steph perched on the couch, her lips stretch into a blinding smile. As soon as her dark eyes land on Steph, her stomach twists into knots.
”Hey! You’re Stephanie, right?” She asks as she unwinds her scarf from around her neck.
“Call me Steph!” She corrects, jumping to stand and automatically holding her hand out—always her father’s daughter, trained to make a good impression.
The other girl cocks her head as she stares down at Steph’s hand. Looks like she wants to laugh, but then she presses her surprisingly warm palm against Steph’s surprisingly clammy one, giving it a surprisingly firm shake.
”Hey, Steph. That’s Chrissy, and I’m Edie. I’m gonna be your supervisor tonight.”
Steph nods her head, like she doesn’t know that already.
She doesn’t really use Facebook at all, but the company communicates on there, so she had to log back in after years of leaving it dormant. She wanted to make sure she’d remember who she was working with, so she’d clicked on both of their profiles to get a feel for them. Chrissy’s is public, so Steph feels like she knows her face already, but Edie’s? Her profile is as good as locked down.
All Steph had to go off of was a grainy profile photo of someone on stage. Nothing that could have prepared her for the woman standing in front of her. Long, dark hair gathered back in a ponytail, apart from the tendrils that frame her face. Cartoonishly round eyes lined in smudged eyeliner and a smoked-out wing. Blood-red lipstick that keeps pulling Steph’s focus back to her intoxicating smile.
She watches as Edie pulls off her huge hoodie, then sits down on the arm of the sofa and kicks off her boots. She pulls a pair of blocky platforms out of her backpack and slips her feet into them.
Steph frowns, looking down at her own bare legs, then over to Edie’s black skinny jeans.
“Um, was I meant to wear jeans?”
That gets Chrissy’s attention from where she’s changing over by the mirror.
“Jesus, Edie. Brenner’s gonna demote you if you keep breaking the rules like this.”
Edie scoffs, doing up the ankle straps. “You know Paul will never tell on me, so unless one of you snitches, I’m golden."
Chrissy rolls her eyes fondly as she pulls down her own little black dress and slips into a pair of black kitten heels.
Steph can feel Edie looking at her, so she turns her head to look back. Not sure why she feels so surprised to find Edie’s eyes on her, full lips quirked up in the corners.
“You’re not going to tattle on me, are you, Steph?”
Steph blinks.
“No! I don’t care what you wear, and if Paul—I mean, I don’t know who Paul is—but if he, uh, doesn’t care, then. Yeah, no, I’m not going to tell on you.”
Edie’s smirk turns into an actual smile. Steph’s not sure why she feels the need to look away.
“Paul’s the venue manager,” Chrissy tells her from across the room, fixing her fringe in the mirror.
Both of the other girls have their hair up in high ponytails. Steph tucks her hair behind her ear. “Was I meant to tie my hair up?”
Edie stands up, holding a hand out to Steph to pull her up off the sofa. Steph’s wearing her most comfortable pair of stilettos, but with her platforms, Edie’s taller.
“Don’t worry, Steph, you look perfect.”
She squeezes Steph’s bare shoulder before approaching the small strip of counter space where their signed-out alcohol is waiting.
Edie crouches down to pull three test tube racks out from under the sink, then a bucket full of the plastic test tubes. Chrissy goes to join her and takes a rack for herself. Steph takes a step closer, not sure if she’s meant to join them and squeeze up there or wait for them to finish.
“When was your first night again, Steph?” Edie asks, back turned.
“Oh! Uh, last night.”
“Good first shift?”
Stephie shrugs even though Edie’s not looking. “I mean, yeah, I think so. My supervisor seemed disappointed she didn’t make more, but I was pretty stoked.”
Edie hums, then looks back over her shoulder.
“Do you wanna start pouring, babe?”
Steph rushes over, trying to squeeze around the small space, before Edie takes a step to the side to give her room. She reaches for the rack that Edie’s set out for her.
“Is this one mine?” She asks, picking up a vibrant red bottle of Sourz.
“I mean, we can swap if you think you’ll have more luck pushing apple,” Edie says with a nod to her own bottle. “But I find that most people like strawberry, so it should make for some better sales for you.”
“Wha’? Oh, uh. Thanks, Edie!”
Chrissy obviously knows what she's doing, so Edie just lets her get to it while she leans in to watch Steph as she pours.
They drilled it into their heads during the recruiting event, and on shift last night, that it’s crucial that they fill them to the right level. A pinkie’s width from the top, always.
She feels extra nervous with Edie just watching her silently.
Steph is good at enough sports to know that she's good with her hands, but finger dexterity is a whole other story. Paired with her shitty eyesight—it’s not that bad yet—she feels like a newborn calf as she tries to pour a tray of ninety test tubes full of liqueur.
Edie doesn’t say anything before she starts filling her own test tubes, so she figures that must be a good sign.
Steph tries not to feel envy when she watches how quickly Edie’s hands work, finishing before Chrissy, despite starting after both of them. Steph is only halfway through hers when Chrissy finishes and straps on her belt bag.
Chrissy does a final clock in the mirror, says good luck, girls!, then heads out. Leaving Steph and Edie alone.
“Do you want me to help you finish up?”
Steph takes a step back and scratches the back of her neck. “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind..."
Edie takes the bottle from her, and instead of pulling Steph’s rack closer, she steps closer to Steph.
“Don’t worry, it gets easier with practice. Chrissy used to spend half of the whole shift filling her tray, so it was a miracle she managed to sell half by the end of the night.” Edie lifts her head, looking around the room to double-check that they’re alone before she leans in closer. “And listen, between me and you? Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to be a little less precise.”
Edie winks at her, and Steph has to look away. She starts fiddling with the zip of her belt bag and misses it while Edie finishes up.
“There we go, all done! You good to go?”
Steph adjusts the neckline of her dress and dabs on some more lip gloss before she smiles and picks up the rack.
“All set.”
Edie reaches out. Squeezes Steph’s shoulder and winks.
“Go get ‘em.”
——— TWO ———
Steph blinks at the man in front of her, convinced that she must be dreaming right now.
The guy just blinks back at her.
She can feel his drink sink in as her dress starts to cling to her skin.
“Um,” she says, at a loss for anything else.
The guy just stares back at her, then at his now-empty fishbowl glass, held between two palms. He looks down at the puddle of highlighter-yellow and pink that he didn’t even have the chance to mix together, now in a puddle around her feet. She can feel it between her toes.
Jesus Christ, even her underwear is wet.
It doesn’t feel like any of it splashed on her face, thank God, so at least she’s not going to have to wipe her makeup off or anything.
She brings her rack of drinks back to her chest and turns on her heel before the asshole can do something stupid, like try to make her pay for a new one.
Her vision is tunnelled as she pushes through the crowd, fixated on getting back to the staff room and not paying attention to anything else. She’s sure to keep a smile on her face, though.
As soon as she reaches safety, she sets her half-full rack down at the pouring station and rushes over to the employee bathroom, picking up her bag on the way.
Her dress is so wet and sticky that the thought of just leaving it to dry dies instantly. She’s going to need to at least try and rinse some of it. And her shoes, too. She definitely needs to rinse her shoes.
She pulls at the ties looped around her ankles, shoving her feet into her sneakers once she gets her heels off so that she doesn’t have to touch the dirty linoleum.
She’s just pulling her dress off when she hears the door to the staff room open, followed by, “Steph? You okay?”
She’s not exactly embarrassed about the fact that someone spilled their drink all over her, but for some reason, she's a little embarrassed that Edie’s come to check on her.
Maybe it’s because this is the first time she’s working with Edie since her second night on the job. She’d like to think that in her three weeks of working, she’s gotten marginally better at her job and has built up some confidence, but getting doused in someone’s cocktail makes her feel like it’s her first night all over.
“Yeah! All, uh…good!”
“Did something happen?”
Edie’s voice is coming directly from the other side of the door now.
Steph looks at her dress in the sink, then up at her reflection. Takes a deep breath. Whatever, it’s not like it’s nothing Edie’s never seen before.
She pulls the bathroom door open so that Edie can see the full picture of her standing in her underwear and her sneakers, running her dress under the faucet.
“Some guy accidentally spilled his whole drink over me, and it got me fucking soaked.”
“Wha—how big was it?”
“It was one of those fishbowl ones, you know? Straight from the bar, so... I’m amazed I didn’t get any ice in my bra.”
She chances a look at Edie in the mirror before she looks away with a flush.
Edie doesn’t say anything for a few seconds before she clears her throat. “Uh, I have a spare dress if you want to wear that."
Steph turns off the tap and wrings out her dress, holding it up and watching as it drips. She meets Edie’s eye again and smiles.
“Honestly? That would be amazing. A lot better than spending the rest of the night wet.”
Edie snorts from where she’s crouched down and digging through her own backpack. She’s also wearing a dress tonight—no jeans. She comes back and holds out a handful of black fabric.
“You are a lifesaver, oh my god! Thank you so much!”
Edie hovers in the doorway as Steph pulls the dress over her head and wriggles her way into it.
“No problem. Supervisors are told to always pack a spare in case a girl shows up wearing the wrong thing.”
Steph adjusts how it sits on her hips, then grimaces.
“Problem?”
Steph meets her eye in the mirror again.
“I think I’m either gonna end tonight with a yeast infection—”
“Dude! My dress isn’t—”
Before Edie can finish, Steph continues, “Or I’m gonna have to go commando. My undies are fucking drenched.” Edie snorts again. “I don’t suppose you have spare underwear too?” Before Edie can say anything, she tacks on, “I’m just joking, don’t worry.”
Edie tilts her head and pulls a face.
“I mean, I don’t have spare underwear, but I have a pair of bike shorts that you could borrow.”
“Shit! Really? That would be amazing!”
Steph perks up, reaching under her dress to start pulling down her underwear. Doesn’t want to spend any more time with the sticky fabric touching her.
She flushes when they land around her ankles, stepping out of them and scooping down to pick up the bundle of pale yellow fabric, covered in blotches of bright yellow, pink, and even some orange.
Jesus, why does she even own yellow underwear? She wasn’t expecting anyone to see her underwear tonight, so she hadn’t really thought about it further than knowing to wear a push-up bra to make her chest more noticeable.
She scratches the back of her neck and holds up the ball of yellow cotton. “I mean, at least the yellow won’t be noticeable if it stains,” she jokes, forcing a laugh.
She shoves her underwear into her backpack before turning back to Edie, only for her eyes to go wide.
“Wait, I didn’t realise you meant you were wearing them right now! I don’t want to steal your clothes!”
But Edie’s already holding onto the doorframe with one hand for balance while she steps out of a pair of plain black shorts. She pops back to full height and holds them out to Steph.
Jesus, now that Steph’s not wearing her heels, Edie in platforms means she has to tilt her chin to look up at her.
“I really don’t mind, babe. We wouldn’t want to send you out to the wolves, all vulnerable, would we?”
Steph laughs and looks away. Not sure why her cheeks feel so hot.
Edie doesn’t leave her spot at the door, keeping her company as Steph steps into Edie’s bike shorts. They’re still warm from Edie’s body heat. Her breath catches when she pulls them up.
Afterwards, while Edie’s busy calculating sales and filling out forms, working out how much everyone owes, Steph starts getting changed.
She wriggles out of Edie’s shorts as soon as her shoes are off, has felt guilty all night about the fact that not only did she steal the clothes off Edie’s body, she’s had her bare crotch rubbing up against the seam.
She pulls on her leggings, then her socks, lacing up her sneakers before she pulls her borrowed dress off and replaces it with a sweatshirt—she thinks it should be long enough that she’s not going to end up flashing anyone a supreme amount of camel-toe on the walk home.
She folds her borrowed clothes up and places them beside her on the sofa while she shoves her shoes back into her bag, where her dress and panties are already bundled up in a plastic bag and waiting for a wash.
Edie comes to sit down next to her, holding out her phone screen so Steph can start digging through her belt bag and counting it out.
She holds out a wad of cash, but Edie’s busy putting something into her own bag. Steph flushes when she realises that it’s the dress and the shorts.
“Oh! Uh, I was just going to ask if you’d mind if I took those home with me so that I could wash them for you.”
Edie laughs at that, leaning in to bump their shoulders together.
“That’s sweet of you, but I’m probably gonna need them before I’ll see you again, so I’ll just wash them myself.”
Steph worries her lower lip between her teeth, looking between Edie and her backpack.
“You sure?”
Edie just shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”
——— THREE ———
Steph’s excited to work at The Church—it’s actually called Trinity, but everyone just calls it the Church because it’s where half the fucking town seems to congregate.
She’s been on a few nights out there, and it's a good time. There are three different bars—one outside, one downstairs, and one upstairs—so it seems a bit unnecessary to have shot girls too, but she’s heard that the money is great.
She’s found her sweet spot in terms of sales now.
Honestly, she’s just happy to talk to people all night. Usually ends up spending all her time out in the smoking area, where she doesn’t have to try and shout over the music.
She doesn’t sell to as many people as the girls she works with, but she makes friends for the night.
Steph doesn’t like to think she has thin skin, but walking around a dance floor and having twenty people in a row shoo her away like she’s a bug feels pretty shitty.
So she bounces around the groups and talks for ages, and then people either like her or they feel sorry for her, but either way they end up buying from her.
Sometimes people even approach her instead of the other way around, and at least half of the time they actually want to buy a shot. And honestly, she’s used to sleazy guys, so she doesn’t even flinch the other half the time.
It’s a surprisingly hard job. People aren’t nice, and they get meaner the more they drink, but that’s why she likes to hang out in the smoking area. She can make nice with people and then make her money there, so that she can limit the times she has to go inside.
So she knows that until she starts going inside consistently, she’s never going to be a top seller.
But she’s fine with that.
Steph is friendly and she tries to enjoy herself. So even though she doesn’t sell as well, she knows that her supervisors must have been talking her up because she's started getting placed in good venues.
There are the bad venues, where you’re lucky to crack £10 in three hours; there are the places she’s used to, where she can manage maybe £50; and then there are the good venues, where you’re expected to make £50 within the first hour.
And apparently, The Church is the best place to work.
There’s a lot to be excited about. It’s her first shift where she gets to wear jeans and sneakers instead of a dress and heels. It’s her first shift working somewhere she’s been before. And on top of that, Edie’s her supervisor again.
It’s also her first night that they’re selling Jägerbombs, which she’s sure will be an easier sell than the usual luminescent sours. The only downside is that they’re selling them for almost double what they cost at the bar.
She feels good. She feels ready. Feels the same simmering excitement she used to get before a gymnastics meet.
She enters the fray full of confidence.
Confidence that is thoroughly shaken in under five minutes.
It’s a harrowing experience.
The crowd is densely packed and drunk and rowdy.
There’s a football game being projected onto a bare wall outside, so there are loads of guys huddled together who don’t acknowledge her when she tries to talk to them, and it’s so full that she has to hold her tray over her head when she walks through the crowd.
She’s used to holding her little rack of test tubes; she knows where to tuck her fingers and hold it just right so that she’ll never drop it. But this? A plain black tray with fourteen little cups of Red Bull and Jäger balancing on top? Carrying that above her head?
She’s already had three stolen by the time she makes it to the opposite end of the crowd.
The money is good, at least. Largely because there are a load of bachelor and bachelorette parties that seemingly come to The Church to start their nights, and they’re very generous when it comes to handing her cash.
They’re set up at the upstairs bar, so it’s another challenge having to squeeze past a bunch of drunk patrons coming down a stairway that just gets wetter and stickier as the night goes on.
She’s not sure why, but she also feels a little disappointed that she’s hardly seen Edie at all, keeps on missing her.
Edie is incredible at selling, which Steph already knows, but every time she approaches someone, it feels like they’re already holding a shot. Telling her, Sorry, I’m only buying from the one with the curly hair tonight.
So there’s good and bad, but she’s spoken to a few nice people, and she’s made so much money that she’s had to empty out her belt bag to make room.
It’s all going well until she’s waved over by a group of guys. She keeps her smile in place and bounds over.
“Hi guys! How’s your night going?” She greets.
But instead of responding, one of them just waves a £20 note in her face and picks four shots off her tray. Two for himself, and one for each of the guys he’s standing with.
She clears her throat and tries to catch his eye again.
“Um, sorry, it’s twenty-two for four…” She trails off, hoping he’s not going to try and haggle with her. She’s not that desperate for the sale.
The guy looks at her like she’s scum on the sole of his shoe before he rolls his eyes and throws a £5 note onto her sticky tray. Her smile wavers as she rushes to tuck it away and start digging around for pound coins.
“Keep the change,” he grumbles, downing two shots and throwing the cups onto the ground before he stomps on them.
She licks her lips. Asshole. At least she got a tip out of it.
She’s about to move on when one of the other guys smiles at her.
“Sorry about him; he’s in a bad mood.”
Steph perks up. “Oh, it’s fine! How about you? Are you having a good night?”
The guy downs a shot and shrugs.
“Could be better. But what about you? How’s your night going?”
“I’m having a blast!” She exaggerates. “It’s super packed, but I’ve met a few nice people, so, you know!”
He nods, his eyes tracking from her face down to her shoes. Lingering on her chest on the journey back up.
He smirks, and Steph gets a bad feeling in her tummy.
“I mean, I get why you’d love it.”
Steph keeps her smile in place and tilts her head. “Huh?”
“I mean, it must be nice to get so much attention when you’re like, a three at best.”
“A…three?”
His smirk spreads. “Come on, you can’t be that stupid.” When Steph doesn’t say anything, he rolls his eyes. “A three out of ten.”
Stveie licks her lips again before she forces her smile into place.
“Well, it was great to meet you! Have a good night!” She chirps before spinning on her heel and rushing away.
Jesus Christ.
She’s been negged before, but Jesus, she was just…not expecting that. Not at work.
She tries to push it out of her mind as she approaches another group of girls, smiling at them as they buy a bunch of shots.
She looks down at her tray and realises her hands are shaking. Steph knows that they’re allowed to ask the bouncers to kick people out, but the thought of actually doing it feels a little overly dramatic.
She just has to sell two more before she can go back upstairs and take her time refilling while she tries to get her head back on track.
She’s waved over by an older couple who happily buy her last two shots, giving her a little tip too.
“Are you okay, honey?” The woman asks, and god. Just being asked makes her eyes sting.
“It was lovely to meet you! Have a good night!” She exclaims, rushing away without answering.
Her nose tingles. She can tell that tears are coming, which just makes her want to cry even more because she knows she’s being stupid. It’s not like the guy even said something that bad. He was just saying it to get to her! She shouldn’t be upset!
And yet she has to blink frantically when she goes to set her tray back at her station, then rushes through to the bathroom.
She sits down on the closed toilet and puts her head in her hands.
Fine. If she’s going to be upset about this, she’ll give herself three minutes to cry about it, and then she has to stop being a little baby.
She folds up some toilet paper to hold under her eyes as she cries it out—she always douses her face in setting spray, but just in case.
She dabs at her eyes once she’s done, practicing her smile in the mirror. Her mother taught her a lot of things, but she figured out how to make it look like she hasn’t been crying all on her own.
She still feels shaky when she makes her way back to the pouring station, but she’s sure no one else will notice.
She takes her time refilling. She’d be happy to just cash out now, but there’s only an hour left, and she knows if her sales are really bad compared to the other girls, she’ll be put back in the crappy venues.
But actually, she’s not sure she ever wants to work at this venue again.
Still, she doesn’t want to disappoint anyone, so she’s going to keep working. She’s going to be strong, and she’s going to sell another try so that she can triple what she usually earns, and then she’ll pack it in.
She’s got this.
But then there’s a hand on her shoulder.
“Steph, you’re trembling. Are you okay?”
She turns around and sees Edie’s friendly face.
And then she's tearing up again. Fucking hell, Stephanie! Get it together!
“Yup! All good!”
Edie frowns at her. She’s used to talking to Edie when she’s wearing platforms and towering over her. When they’re both in sneakers like this, they’re the same height. Steph can stare right into her eyes.
Edie brings a hand up slowly and wipes under Steph’s eye with her thumb.
“You sure?” Edie asks softly, arching an eyebrow.
God, Steph hates crying. She would get her tear ducts removed if she could. But mostly, she hates crying in front of people.
And yet, as soon as Edie asks that, Steph is stumbling forward and grabbing onto Edie so that she can cry on her bare shoulder.
Edie is quick to reciprocate, wrapping her arms around Steph and hugging her back.
“Shh, you’re okay, Steph. Just breathe, okay? I’ve got you, babygirl. I’ve got you.”
Steph doesn’t cry for long, but it’s still long enough that she wants to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment when she pulls back.
She sniffles, dabbing under her eyes and feeling how wet it is. She hopes to god that her makeup isn’t running. If that asshole made her cry and look like a clown, she’ll…probably just cry again, admittedly.
There’s a gentle hand on her cheek, encouraging her to lift her face again. She doesn’t want to look at Edie, but she feels too weak to fight it.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart? A little better?”
Steph’s stomach flutters. She ignores it in favour of nodding, smiling. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m okay now. Thanks, Edie.”
Edie squeezes her shoulder, and Steph turns back to her tray, but Edie doesn’t move out of her space.
“Do you wanna tell me what happened?”
Steph shrugs, reaching for her can of Red Bull to fill up her cups. “Just some guy, no biggie.”
“What did he do?” Edie asks, leaning up against the table, arms folded across her chest.
“It was no big deal; he just tried to neg me, and it really caught me off guard.”
“What did he say?”
Steph rolls her eyes before she looks back at Edie. “It was so stupid. It really was nothing. Like, he didn’t even do a good job.”
“Tell me, Steph.”
Steph huffs. She doesn’t want to say it; she doesn’t want Edie to know how pathetic she is and that all it took was one vaguely mean thing to turn her into a crybaby.
“He just said something about how I should, like, enjoy getting so much attention because I’m a three out of ten.”
“Fuck off, what? He said that?”
“I told you it was stupid!”
“It’s not stupid, it’s shitty!” Edie picks at her already chipped nail polish, overly casual when she asks, “Will you point him out to me?”
Steph sighs.
“I don’t want to make a big deal of it, okay? It really was nothing.”
Edie sucks her teeth. “It’s a big deal to me, okay? I’m in charge of the three of you girls working tonight, and I don’t want any of you to deal with that.”
“It’s just… I don’t want him to know he got to me, you know? If he knows that he upset me, then it’s like he wins somehow.”
“He won’t be winning, okay? He’s a fucking loser.” She bumps their shoulders again. “And he made you cry, so I want him gone.”
Steph sighs again. Defeated after barely trying to fight.
“Fine, I’ll point him out.”
She picks up her tray and heads back out, with Edie following close behind her.
She spots him in the same place he was and points him out, then tries to get back to working. Pushing it out of her mind. Knows that Edie will take care of it.
It’s not even five minutes later that there’s a gentle tap on her shoulder.
She spins around, zipping up her belt bag after a sale, and comes face to face with a very smug Edie Munson.
“Asshole’s gone, aaaand,” she reaches for Steph’s bag, tugging on the zipper.
“Hey! What are you—”
Edie stills long enough for Steph to see the £50 note she has held between her fingers before she tucks it into the inner pouch Steph uses for 50p coins. “He was very apologetic.”
“Edie!” Steph hisses, trying to pull the money back out, but Edie just zips up her bag for her.
“Come on, you earned it!”
Steph wants to push, but before she can, Edie disappears back into the crowd.
Steph shakes her head, checking that her bag is properly zipped before she approaches a new group with a big smile.
——— FOUR ———
She’s worked a few nights at The Wet Cat; it's by far her favourite venue.
Their pouring station is at the outside bar, in the smoking section. Sharing space with the actual bartenders.
She loves it.
The staff are welcoming and funny, and she’s now friendly enough with some of the bartenders that they try to talk up her shots to patrons when the bar is packed and the wait time is long.
There are a bunch of picnic tables and benches set up outside so she can hop from group to group, and it’s only when it’s super quiet that she has to brave going inside.
It’s her favourite place to work already, but working a shift there with Edie? It’s the most fun she’s had at work since her Scoops days.
Edie is happy to stay inside because she manages somehow, while Steph takes the outside.
It’s a casual enough venue that Edie is less made-up than Steph has ever seen her, and for some reason, she just can’t stop looking at her whenever their paths cross.
They usually start cleaning up twenty minutes before venues close so that they can leave with the rest of the crowd, but her sales are going so well that Steph completely loses track of time.
It’s only when she sees Edie come out from inside that she realises how late it’s gotten.
She hops up to catch her as she passes.
“Should I start clearing up?”
Edie looks down at the twenty-odd tubes she has left to sell. Her eyes sparkle.
“Do you think you can get rid of those in the next ten minutes?”
Steph looks around the busy smoking area and grins.
“Easy.”
“Good girl!”
Steph preens, then she gets back to work.
Steph drops the test tubes into a basin of soapy water while Edie tallies up.
She looks up when people start filing out of the smoking area, taking their drunken chatter along with them.
“Hey,” Edie starts, before hip-checking her. “Do you have to get home right away?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, are you going straight home, or do you wanna hang around for afters?”
“Afters?”
“The staff stays after and has a drink, you know? Afters.”
“And I’m…invited?”
Edie turns to face the smoking area, where a middle-aged man in a fleece sits down at one of the tables. “Hey, TJ? Do you want to invite Steph to join us for a drink?”
He sets a folder down in front of him before he looks at the pair of them.
“You Steph?” He asks. Steph nods. “Sure, more the merrier.” He focuses on Edie. “But after the first drink, you’re paying for her.”
Edie jokingly salutes him before she turns to look down the bar.
“Hey Heather? Can Steph and I get a drink?”
Heather looks at Edie like she’s trying not to roll her eyes before she smiles and shakes her head. “Sure thing. What’re you guys drinking?”
Edie turns to her. “What do you want?”
“Vodka soda?”
Edie turns back to Heather. “One vodka soda and one vodka cran, please, honeybunch.”
Heather throws a rag at her, but Edie just giggles and jumps out of the way.
After Steph’s finished washing up and handed over what she owes, she picks up her bag and goes to sit at the picnic table next to where TJ is busy.
Edie joins her not a minute later, a black plastic cup in each hand. She sets one in front of Steph before she sits down next to her, instantly turning her body towards Steph.
“So Steph,” she starts, black straw between her teeth.
“So Edie.”
“How’s work?”
Steph snorts. “I don’t know; how’s work for you?”
"Ah, I can’t complain. I had a great shift tonight, made loads of money, got to work with a pretty girl, and now I’m having a nice drink. I’m living the high life.”
Steph raises her cup. “To the high life!”
After they tap the rims of their cups and have a sip, Edie rests her chin on the heel of her palm, smiling at Steph.
Steph swallows, feeling strangely bashful when she finds herself the sole recipient of Edie’s focus. She looks over to where one of the bartenders is sweeping up the detritus on the floor.
“Should we be helping them?” Steph asks, nodding to the bar staff cleaning up.
“Nah, they’re good. We can just sit for a while.”
Steph nods before she has another sip of her drink, looking around the area now that the lights are on and it’s empty.
TJ pays them no mind as he sits at his own table, doing the books. Even with a load of people working around them, it feels like she and Edie are completely alone.
Steph taps her nails against the wooden table, racking her brain for something to say. Anything to cut the tension.
Thankfully, Edie saves her, head tilted as she pinches her straw between her fingers and stirs the ice in her cup.
“Tell me, Steph, do you ever go to any of the places we work?”
Steph arches an eyebrow. “Why do you wanna know? You gonna try and make me spend all my money on you?”
“Nah, just trying to get a feel for you. So, do you?”
Steph opens her mouth, then closes it again. “I used to, in first semester.”
“But not anymore?”
“Honestly? Not really, because, okay. So, one of my flatmates—Robin—is an art student, right?”
“Oh shit, really!” Edie interjects. “I study art too! What faculty are they in?”
“Uh, she’s doing sculpture. Or rather, she’s going to choose sculpture next year.”
“Oh, well, I’m in painting, but I’ll keep an eye out for her.” Edie leans her head into her hand and smiles softly. “You’re not an art student, though.”
“Nope,” Stevie says, popping her ‘p’.
“Hmm, okay. Let me guess.” Edie narrows her eyes. “Marketing?” Steph shakes her head. “Business?” Steph pulls a face. Edie hums again, chewing on her straw in thought, before she snaps her fingers. “Education?”
“What gave me away?”
Edie’s smile softens, head tilted. “Lucky guess.”
The silence settles around them again. Steph sucks her lower lip into her mouth. She feels desperate to keep talking to Edie, so when a thought finally pops into her head, she opens her mouth and asks, “Have you always been this good at it?”
“Good at…it?”
“You know, shot girling.”
“Shot girling.” Edie repeats; Steph nods. “Honestly, kinda,” Edie admits with a laugh. “I worked at a bar the summer before uni, so pouring shots was easy enough to get used to.”
“But I mean, like, dealing with the customers and stuff. How are you so good at that?”
”Oh, that?” Edie ducks her head closer. “Don’t judge me, but I was a drama kid in high school.”
“Uh, okay?”
Edie rolls her eyes, turning her body so that he can fold her leg and bring it up onto the bench. Her knee presses into Steph’s hip.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m good at the whole sales thing because it’s like a performance, you know? It’s like stepping into character.” She pauses to sip her drink. “It’s like, the whole dressing up part just helps, in a way. Because this,” she waves a hand in front of herself, “isn’t really me. So it makes it easier to get into character and become someone who jokes around with econ. students and flirts with a whole group of guys.”
Steph tilts her head and speaks around her straw. “What do you mean it’s not really you?”
“You know, the hair, the makeup, pushing my tits up for tips. When I’m on a night out, I look nothing like this.”
Steph moves to copy Edie’s position, leg up on the bench and elbow on the table.
“You don’t?”
Edie smiles. “You probably wouldn’t even recognise me if you saw me out, babe.”
“It’s just makeup; of course I would.”
“I—well, sure. It’s just makeup, but it’s, I dunno. It’s more.” She reaches up and starts fiddling with her ponytail. “Also, it’s not just makeup.”
Before Steph can ask what she means, Edie seems to untie her hair before she holds up her ponytail extensions for Steph to see.
“Oh, shit! I never noticed!” Steph laughs, leaning over to try and get a look at the small bun at the back of Edie’s head before looking back at the extensions. She holds a hand out, waiting for the go ahead before she touches.
“Do you kinda get what I mean now? It’s like, I put on a costume and become a fantasy,” she twiddles her fingers. “Or some bullshit like that.”
Steph picks up her drink again while Edie carefully packs her ponytail into her backpack. She looks at her face and tries to imagine Edie without it, without the ‘costume’. It leaves a strange, sour taste in her mouth.
“So, right now, is this a performance?” She asks, her voice sounding strangely small.
There’s just something about Edie’s smile that washes away the sourness when she focuses it on Steph.
“Right now? No, babe. I mean, when I’m working, that's when I try to be someone else. I’m just being me right now.”
Steph plays with her straw, feels strangely shy. Not sure why her stomach feels warm after getting confirmation that at least this isn’t an act.
“So what about you?” Edie asks.
“What about me?”
“I’m guessing the hair and makeup thing is pretty normal for you, then?”
Steph snorts. “You have no idea. My mother has been putting me in heels and makeup since I was a kid, so it’s just part of life now.” She says with a shrug.
Before long, the rest of the venue staff comes to join them at the outside tables, and both of them go back to sitting normally so that more people can fit on the benches on either side of them. One of the bartenders ends up on Steph’s other side, pressed up against her.
Until there’s an arm draped across her shoulders and she finds herself pulled closer into Edie’s side.
She looks over at Edie, but Edie’s already talking to one of the bouncers sitting opposite.
Steph relaxes into the touch.
——— FIVE ———
It’s a big night for her.
There seem to be a million and two events going on tonight, so it’s all hands on deck. And as a result, Steph is working at a new venue, and she’s starting the shift on her own.
Even better, Edie is going to come and join her two hours in, so they’ll get to work together again.
She’s not sure why, but for some reason, Steph wants to look extra special tonight. She spends a longer time than usual getting ready for her shift, all while Robin hovers in the doorway, asking if she really needs more glitter.
She curls her hair and clips it back, putting on a pair of sparkling, dangly ears and the gold necklace she got for her fifteenth birthday.
“Are you seeing someone?” Robin asks out of the blue, eyeing her suspiciously.
Steph rolls her eyes, spritzing herself with perfume. “No, Robin, you'd know if I was. I just want to look nice, okay?”
Robin doesn’t look convinced if her shrewd stare is to be believed, but Steph just ignores her.
She’s never worked at Eclipse, but when her parents came to visit in the first semester, they took her out for lunch, and afterwards they went to Eclipse for overpriced cocktails.
It’s not the sort of place she expected Brenner Inc. to work out of. It’s the type of place that serves artisanal drinks and snack platters, with fake ivy walls and neon signs that say stuff like rosé all day.
Brenner gave strict instructions to go all out with the glam, so Steph tells herself that’s why she spends over an hour agonising over her eye makeup. That's the reason she wants to dress up.
She usually wears her strappy black heels when she works, but she eyes a pair of new stilettos in her closet that she hasn’t gotten a chance to wear yet. They’ve got a higher heel, a fluffy vamp, and little pom-poms that dangle from the ankle strap on little ribbons.
She stares at her shoes for a long time before deciding to stuff the fluffy ones into her bag.
Since it is more of a cocktail bar than a club, she’s starting earlier than usual. She’s gotten used to only starting work around 11 PM, so she feels somewhat discombobulated now that she’s starting at 9 PM. It messes with her rhythm, and she ends up having to jog to the venue so that she won’t be late, huffing and puffing as she passes the long queue that’s already lined up outside.
Steph’s shown into what looks like a storeroom before the manager says he’ll be right back with her alcohol.
She changes out of her sweatpants, then crouches down to put on her high heels, and okay. They maybe aren’t as comfortable as her usual shoes of choice, but it’s not too bad. And they look cute, at least. She wonders if Edie will notice them.
She looks around for the usual serverware, but she can’t find any test tubes or Jägerbomb cups. Shit, was she meant to bring them?
Before she can panic too much, the manager comes back holding a box of alcohol. He sets it down on the counter and takes out a bottle of Smirnoff and a bottle of Cactus Jacks.
Her eyes go wide. And they only go wider when he points out the box of shot glasses on the shelf and hands her an impressively heavy wooden paddle with ten holes cut out of it.
Before he leaves, he reminds her that the vodka and the tequila don't sell for the same price, like she's an idiot. She would be more offended if she didn’t already feel completely out of her depth.
She just stares at the box of shot glasses.
This is a cocktail bar, so of course people will be better behaved, but still. She thinks about all her nights of working and how frequently people like to finish off their shots by crushing test tubes under their shoes.
But it’s fine. Steph is good enough at her job that she’s been trusted to start a shift all by herself. It’s just glass. And besides, she only has to carry ten at a time! Child’s play.
She takes photos before she starts and sends them to Edie, along with a photo of the sign-out sheet the manager left. She knows she has to wait for Edie’s go-ahead before she can break the seals and start pouring.
Edie replies:
oh shit we’re selling actual alcohol tonight?
nice
can’t wait to join uou
it’s fucking dead here
see u soon!!!
now put your phone away <3
Steph heart reacts to her messages before she tucks her phone into her bag and gets started.
She pours five vodkas and five tequilas, which she carefully slots into the holes of the paddle before she picks it up, and—
Okay, the paddle is pretty fucking heavy with the glasses in place. At least it’s smaller and more sturdy than a tray, but still. She can already tell that her wrists are going to start protesting soon.
It’s going to be fine, though, she tells herself. She’s going to do great, and Edie will be here in no time.
Her shift starts out... well, okay. It’s not exactly bad, but she definitely wouldn’t say it’s been good.
The venue is on the smaller side, but it’s packed.
Maybe it’s just because it’s still comparatively early in the night and people aren’t tipsy yet, but people so far have been even less friendly than what she’s used to.
They’re all the sort of people she can imagine her parents would want her to be friends with—flush with cash and drying her out of change, so she keeps having to run to the bar for more. And the ones without cash keep trying to shove their parents' credit cards at her and then get annoyed when she says she can only take cash.
Plus, her stomach keeps rumbling from all the food. She’s been eyeing the platter of truffle fries and halloumi skewers on the table of a couple who seem to be on a very bad date.
Plus plus, her shoes are not only starting to hurt, but she’s had a few close calls with them slipping on the shiny checkerboard tiles.
She ends up bouncing between a group celebrating someone’s 21st birthday and a group of guys from the ultimate frisbee team on a night out, so between them she manages to clear a few paddles worth of drinks.
It’s far from her best night, but it’s okay.
She’s hovering on the edge of the room, trying to will people to come up to her, when she sees Edie make her way through the crowd.
Her heart jumps, and she scurries to follow, not bothering to clear her paddle first. Desperate to say hi.
Edie is struggling out of a pair of black jeans when Steph finds her. She looks up when the door opens and flashes Steph the smile she’s grown so fond of.
“Steph! God, you’re a sight for sore eyes. I just did two hours at Old Edgar's, and it was so fucking dead. I only made, like, twenty.”
She pulls her dress down from where it’s bunched around her hips, and Steph jolts, realising that her eyes have been fixed on Edie’s legs while she’s been speaking. She flushes and keeps her head down as she takes her tray back to the pouring station.
“Yeah, well, hopefully you can make it up here.”
She startles when fingertips graze her skin, brushing her hair off her shoulder. It’s an innocent enough touch, but it makes her feel like she’s chugged a can of Monster.
“Yeah? Has it been good so far?”
Steph pulls a face, pulling new glasses from the box, old ones lined up in the bottom of the sink. “I mean, it’s not bad, but it seems most people don’t have cash, so..."
Edie frowns. “Didn’t Brenner tell you to use a card machine tonight?”
“Um, no? The manager didn’t say anything.”
Edie pulls out her phone and starts scrolling before she holds it out for Steph to see.
“No, see, here,” she taps her nail on the screen. Stvie blinks, noticing the sparkling press-ons Edie’s wearing, before her eyes focus on the text on screen.
Ask the manager for the card machine — it’s an upmarket venue, so it's less likely for clients to carry cash 💸 💸
“Oh,” she says dully, the flush on her cheeks starting to burn. “I didn't—”
“Don’t worry about it; I’ll just go ask quickly.”
As soon as Edie’s gone, Steph groans into her hands. Jesus, she can’t believe she missed that.
But okay, it’s fine. At least that should help her a bit for the next two hours.
Edie’s back in a flash, brandishing two wireless card readers.
“You know how to use these?”
Steph nods—thank god for her time at Scoops, so at least she doesn’t look like a complete idiot.
Edie’s still busy getting ready and filling out the forms, so she spares Steph a smile over the shoulder and wishes her luck.
The card reader makes things easier, but it doesn’t do anything to make people any friendlier. It’s a comfort knowing that Edie is here with her, though.
Steph catches glimpses of her every so often, chatting easily with the same people who shooed Steph without a second thought. It’s amazing to watch. Steph knows she’s charming and charismatic, but she has no idea how to harness it the way Edie does.
She’s well aware of how much better than her Edie’s doing, and she can’t help but feel a little curl of embarrassment whenever she sees Edie going back to refill her tray or when they pass each other and Edie says, “God, it’s a good night in here, right?”
She doesn’t care that she’s not as good as Edie, but she’s already dreading the moment that Edie’s going to do the final totals and see how badly Steph did.
It doesn’t help that the birthday group and the ultimate frisbee team both leave at the same time, so Steph is left without her safety groups and has to keep approaching new people who wave her away as soon as they see her.
And fuck, her feet are really starting to hurt. Which just feels extra annoying now because Edie didn’t even notice her shoes.
As soon as she sells the last shot in her round, she carries the paddle of empties back to the storeroom and takes a moment to collect herself.
She pulls out her phone to check the time and groans when she sees she still has an hour left. Her feet start to hurt even more just knowing that she’s not going to be sitting anytime soon.
But it’s fine. She’s already made some money, so even if she sells nothing else, she’ll be fine. Screw embarrassment; she’ll see Edie again and impress her on a night when it does feel like her feet are dying. It’s just one more hour. She’ll just hover on the perimeter and tough it out a little longer.
She switches from standing on one leg to the other while she pours her shots, giving her feet a little break. She shakes out her tired wrists before she picks up her paddle again.
Just one more hour.
She fixes her smile in place as she steps out of the storeroom, walking down the passage and out into the bar—
Only to be knocked right off her feet when someone shoves into her.
The sound of glass shattering rings out in her ears. Her left elbow and her coccyx throb. There’s a sharp burst of pain in her left ankle.
She blinks as she pushes herself to sit up, staring up at the guy above her. She can feel glass biting into her palms.
The guy above her is laughing.
“Sorry,” he snorts before he turns back to a group of his friends. They barely look at her before she seemingly stops existing to them.
She tries to smile at them as she struggles to get back to her feet, even though they aren’t looking. She wobbles as the soles of her heels slip in the alcohol.
She stares down at the puddle on the shiny floor. All of her shots are mixing into a puddle, and at least four of the glasses are broken. She’s not sure she’s even made that much tonight, so she’s probably going to end up paying a portion out of her own pocket.
She bends down to pick up the paddle. She knows that she should go find a dustpan to clean up her mess, but her nose is starting to sting and she can feel pressure behind her eyes, so she just hobbles back to the storeroom, clutching onto the wet piece of wood.
Her ankle screams at her, and she recognises the feeling, knows that she’s managed to sprain it. God, she takes it back. Tonight is a bad night.
She totters over to the pouring station and leans onto the counter, lifting her foot off the ground so that she won’t put any more weight on it.
She hardly realises she’s crying; she only notices when her hand goes up to wipe at her eyes and she hisses, accidentally getting vodka-tequila in her eyes.
She tries to take a shaky breath. It’s okay. It’s a bad night, but it’s okay. It’s just a spill, just a sprain.
Her dress is wet, but it doesn’t feel as bad as it did last time. She’ll be fine. Just needs to get back on the horse. But—
“Oh my god, Steph! Are you okay?”
She squeezes her eyes. She knows it was silly to hope that she could just pretend it didn’t happen and that Edie wouldn’t find out, but god, she feels embarrassed. Can’t believe Edie is about to see her cry again.
Her shoulders slump, and she covers her face with her hands as she starts to cry in earnest.
There are gentle hands on her that guide her to turn around so Edie can hug her properly. Steph hates how the gentle care just makes her cry harder. Christ, she’s going to have to drop out and change her name, she’s not sure she’s ever been so embarrassed.
“Hey, hey, It’s okay. Just breathe for me, sweetheart. There’s a good girl.”
Steph clings to her as her tears refuse to stop. Keeps crying because she’s so humiliated about the fact that she’s crying in the first place.
She tries to cut her tears off, but they won’t stop, so eventually she just pulls back and wipes her nose. Scrubs at her cheeks roughly, only for more tears to spill. Her makeup is definitely fucked.
She hears Edie moving behind her before there’s a hand on her elbow, guiding her backwards.
“Here, sit down. Come on,” Edie says softly, encouraging Steph to sit down on a stack of boxes.
Edie crouches down in front of her, a hand on each of Steph’s knees. She squeezes softly.
“Did you slip, sweetheart?”
Steph’s face crumples before she brings her hands back up for cover. Doesn’t want Edie to see her like this.
“Yeah,” she admits from behind the safety of her palms. Her voice is thick from how clogged her throat is. “Someone bumped into me, and I fell.”
Edie’s hands are soft when they wrap around her wrists and pull them away from her face. Steph tries to fight it, but as soon as Edie grumbles softly, she caves. Lets her hands drop to her lap.
“Sorry, could you say that again, sweetie?”
Steph shrugs and squeezes her eyes shut.
“A guy bumped into me, and I fell over.”
Edie coos, stroking her wrists, before she sucks in a gasp.
“Baby! You’re bleeding.”
Steph sniffles, blinking away her tears so she can see the small cut on her palm.
Edie’s eyes are wide and sad when she looks up at Steph. Steph wants to shove her head into the box she’s sitting on and hide. Maybe if she plays dead long enough, Edie will leave.
Edie gets up and runs some paper towel under the tap before she comes back and peers closer at Steph’s hand, checking that there’s no glass in the cut, then wiping the blood. She wads it up and chucks it into the rubbish bin before folding up a fresh piece of paper towel, pressing it into Steph’s palm.
“Does anything else hurt?”
Steph licks her lips. Debates not answering truthfully, but she’s not sure she can lie when faced with Edie’s doe eyes.
She nods pitifully. Hates herself for how pathetic she sounds when she says, “Think I sprained my ankle.”
Edie pulls a face, like just hearing that has wounded her, but then she shuffles back. Goes from crouching to kneeling on the floor so that she can see Steph’s feet properly.
“Was it this one?”
Steph nods, sniffling, as Edie guides Steph’s left foot to rest on her thigh so that he can undo the ankle strap. The fluffy bits are wet and spiky, and Steph already knows that they’re never going to look as nice again.
“My shoes are ruined,” she says miserably.
“Oh, babygirl, don’t worry; I’m sure they’ll be okay. I meant to say earlier how cute you look in your new shoes.”
Steph just shrugs as her lower lip wobbles. She’s happy that Edie noticed, but then she’s hit with another wave of crippling humiliation as Edie takes her other shoe off too.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispers, her voice wobbling.
Edie’s head snaps up. “Baby, no. You don’t need to be embarrassed, okay? These things happen. And don’t worry, I’ll message Brenner and let him know that it was spillage and not your fault. Don’t worry, okay? No one’s gonna blame you for a little spill.”
Steph shakes her head as Edie speaks, squeezing her eyes shut. She knows Edie’s just being nice.
And fucking hell, just like that, Steph’s crying again.
"N-no, it was my fault,” she argues. Wishes she could shake herself and snap out of it. “I feel so fucking—so stupid.”
“Baby, no. None of that!” And then Edie’s back on her feet, hunched over Steph so that she can hug her again, standing in between the spread of her thighs.
“I feel like such an idiot,” Steph confesses through tears once she’s being held again. “I hate crying.”
Edie squeezes her even tighter. “There’s nothing wrong with crying, okay?”
Steph’s not sure if she agrees just yet, but she finds herself nodding into Edie’s neck. She wishes she could smell through her blocked nose. Wants desperately to know what Edie smells of.
“Shh, there we go. Good girl, Steph. You’re being so good for me,” Edie breathes, a soft soundtrack of encouragement.
Edie keeps a hand pressed flat in between her shoulders underneath her hair, warm against her bare skin. Her touch is light enough to give Steph goosebumps.
Edie keeps whispering to her as she holds her, bathing her in a sense of calm. It makes Steph’s stomach feel warm. Somehow, she manages to scare away her all-consuming embarrassment as the gentle words and touches wrap her up in a cloud.
She knows that Edie’s back must be hurting like this—knows distantly that her neck is starting to ache a little, but she can hardly feel it—and she almost wants to suggest that Edie does something silly like sit on her lap, but she manages to hold her tongue. She doesn’t want to do anything to cut this short.
She can hardly feel how her ankle is throbbing anymore, overcome with relaxation as Edie’s sweet words blur together.
Her mind must just be scrambled from the upset, because she’s sure she hears Edie call her my best girl, my baby.
Steph sighs happily, her thighs twitching. Is vaguely aware of pressure building, wants to spread her legs some more. She feels a sudden urge to kiss Edie.
The thought doesn’t surprise her as much as she thinks it should, her mind too slow and syrupy as she’s held and cared for.
She’s not sure how long she's been pampered with affection, but it still feels too soon when Edie is untangling herself and pulling back.
Her hands are soft when they cup Steph’s face. Her thumbs brush over Steph’s wet cheeks. Edie smiles down at her, eyes heavy-lidded.
“There you are,” she says softly.
Steph just beams up at her. Doesn’t question it when Edie leans forward and presses a soft kiss on her forehead.
“I’m going to be right back, okay, babygirl? I’m going to get you a plaster and something to eat, and I’ll tell the manager that you’re injured, so we’re done for the night. Will you be a good girl and stay right here?”
Steph nods, a smile on her face as she watches Edie go.
She thinks distantly that she should get dressed in her normal clothes, or maybe check that she doesn’t look like a wet raccoon. But Edie told her to stay, so she stays.
When Edie comes back, she’s holding a takeaway box that smells amazing, and she’s got the manager with her.
“Here you go, sweetie,” Edie whispers, handing Steph a to-go box full of loaded fries. She tucks a strand of hair behind Steph’s ear before she hands her a wooden fork. “I’m just going to take this from you so long, okay?” She asks, already reaching around to unclip the strap of Steph’s belt bag. She winks at Steph and lowers her voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to let you keep as much as I can.”
Steph digs in and watches with drooping eyes as Edie and the manager go over the forms, only half listening when he says that he’s happy to write off the spillage if Brenner puts up a fight about absorbing the cost.
He takes what’s left of the bottles and makes to leave, but not before he pauses to offer Steph a smile. “I hope you feel better,” he offers, and then he’s gone, and she’s alone with Edie again.
Steph keeps eating as she watches Edie wriggle back into her jeans. She averts her eyes shyly when Edie unclasps her bra and pulls it out from under her dress before shrugging on her leather jacket. Crouching down to lace up her sneakers.
Once she’s dressed, she returns her attention to Steph.
“Can I have one?” She asks, and Steph holds out her fork before she’s even finished. Edie smiles, spearing two fries and popping them into her mouth. She goes back in for another helping, but this time, she holds the fork out to Steph. “Good girl,” she breathes when Steph wraps her lips around it.
Steph grumbles when Edie takes the box from her and sets it down on the counter, trading it for a tube of antiseptic and a plaster.
“Gimme your hand, please, princess.”
“M’not a princess,” Steph snorts, but she holds her hand out just the same.
Edie just shakes her head at her before she starts tending to Steph’s wound. It’s not a bad cut by any means, but it’s nice to be fussed over. It's even better when Edie dips her head and kisses the centre of the plaster once she’s done.
“Can you get changed, or would you like me to help you with that?”
There’s no judgement in Edie’s voice when she asks it, but Steph still feels a shadow of embarrassment. Wants to prove that she’s not completely useless.
“I’ll manage,” she answers, standing up so she and Edie can trade places, and Edie can sit down on the stack of boxes.
Steph feels strangely slow and uncoordinated as she totters to her bag barefoot.
Her dress is still wet, so even though she came to work wearing it under her sweatshirt, she decides to pull it off. Gathers it up in her hand before she crouches down in her underwear, unzipping her bag.
She shoves the dress right to the bottom before pulling on her hoodie. Has to stand up straight to pull on her sweatpants. She’d almost managed to forget about her ankle until she tries to force it through the leg hole, and she hisses.
Edie moves quickly, dropping to her knees at Steph’s feet so that she can help. Even goes so far as to put on Steph’s socks for her, then helping her into her sneakers.
Once she stands, Edie hands Steph the fries again to distract her while she wets another paper towel.
Steph flinches when it’s pressed to her cheek, but Edie just coos, gentles. "I just want to clean you up a little, okay, sweetie. Won’t even take a minute.”
Steph makes sure to leave a few fries for Edie, stabbing one with the fork so that she can hold it out to her. She watches how Edie’s face lights up before she eats it. Repeating the process until they’re all gone, and Edie has finished wiping her face.
“Do you want me to call you an Uber, baby?”
Steph tilts her head, only understands when Edie looks down at her foot.
“Oh, no. It’s okay, I live close by—I can walk.”
“You sure?”
Steph nods. “I’m sure.”
Edie hums, eyes narrowed.
“Okay, I’ll walk you.”
“It’s really fine, Edie. You’ve already helped me so much.” She’s not sure if it’s just her imagination, but her words seem to come out a little slurred. God, did she manage to get some vodka-tequila into her mouth when she fell?
But then Edie holds out her backpack for her take, and she stops worrying about it.
“Let’s get you home.”
——————
”So, do you understand?” Steph says, looking down at her knees.
”I mean, I finally understand why you were so grumpy about missing work for the past week,” Robin jokes, punching Steph’s knee softly. Steph manages a small smile before she goes back to picking at the hem of her minidress.
Robin sighs, moving back to sit on the same step as her.
“I’m not trying to be funny, babe, but you’ve already told me that you’re not sure if you’re straight; I’m not exactly shocked.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s just... At the time, I meant it like, Oh yeah, I find girls pretty, you know? But this is more. Like I didn’t even realise that’s what was happening. I mean, obviously, I thought Edie was pretty, but I thought that was it. Like, I dunno.” She frowns at her lap. “I’m not making any sense.”
Robin pulls her into a half-hug. “No, I get it, Steph. I guess it’s different in theory than in practice.”
“Yeah.”
“And I think I get why you wouldn’t realise how you felt if you just weren’t expecting it. But that’s what it is, right? You like her?”
Steph shrugs, smiling down at her lap.
“Yeah, I think I do.”
Robin bumps their shoulders together.
“Okay, then what’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem?” Steph repeats, volume rising in indignation. “The problem is, I don’t know what to do now! Like, how do I even act around her now that I know I like her? How am I supposed to talk to her?”
Robin just scoffs. “Listen, babe, you’re Stephanie Harrington. You just have to breathe, and you have people willing to die for you.”
“God, shut up!” Steph laughs, shoving Robin softly. “I don’t know, Rob. This feels different!”
“Steph, she's a person, not some sort of eldritch monster."
“Huh?”
“Never mind. I mean, she’s just a person, right? So treat her like one. Don’t start acting differently just because she’s a woman, okay?”
She squeezes Steph’s shoulder, jostling her until they both start laughing, and Steph finally says, “Okay! I get it!”
“Good! Now, let’s go back to the party so you can get back to this woman you’re obsessed with.”
“I’m not obsessed!”
Steph snags a can of Strongbow for courage when they get back inside the flat, squeezing Robin’s hand before they part, and Robin can get back to drunken karaoke while Steph heads back to where she spotted Edie.
She hasn’t moved; she's still sitting in the corner of a sofa with a bunch of people. Holding a Sports Direct mug in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other.
Edie said Steph wouldn’t recognise her out of her ‘shot girl costume’, but Steph spotted her instantly. She might not have on a face of makeup, but her eyes are just as wide. Her smile is just as bright.
Her hair is different, though, now that it’s loose. Shaggy and layered. And Steph can tell she’s not wearing a bra under her white tank; she can even see a flash of underarm hair. It makes her heart race.
She fiddles with the tab of her can before looking down at her feet. She’s wearing white sneakers because she didn’t want to risk anything with her ankle.
She looks back up, her eyes instantly finding Edie, just as Edie looks over and spots her.
Steph’s breath catches at the way Edie’s eyes light up.
“Steph!”
Edie hops off the sofa and rushes towards her, arms outstretched.
Steph hugs her eagerly, inhaling when her face is tucked into Edie’s neck. She smells good—a bit like cinnamon, maybe a little warm leather. The sort of thing Steph’s ex-boyfriend’s would wear but wouldn’t pull off. On Edie, it’s like the best thing she’s ever smelled.
Once they separate, Edie takes her by the shoulders and holds her in place. Her grin is blinding.
“What are you doing here, sweetheart?”
Steph preens. “My friend, Robin—the art student I mentioned—came with a few friends, and they let me tag along.”
“Well, thank you, Robin! Now come on, come sit with me!” She takes Steph by the arm, guiding her back to the sofa. “Budge up, Jeff; make some room for Steph. Oh, and everyone, this is Steph. Steph, this is everyone!”
The guy Edie was sitting next to smiles, a knowing glint in his eye. “Oh, you’re Steph.”
Steph twiddles her fingers in greeting before she sits down in the corner, Edie squeezing in next to her.
Edie is instantly pulled back into a conversation about people Steph doesn’t know, so she lets herself zone out. Happy to just sit and enjoy the feeling of Edie pressed up against her. She barely stops herself from gasping when Edie stretches an arm around her shoulders and starts toying with her spaghetti strap.
Steph takes a sip of cider to hide her grin.
Eventually, the conversation shifts, and Edie turns away from her friends, leaning into Steph.
She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, Steph surges in to kiss her.
Instantly pulls back and covers her own hand with her mouth.
“Shit! Sorry! I don’t know why I did that.”
A slow smile spreads over Edie’s face, a finger crooked under Steph’s chin and tilting her face up.
“I do,” Edie breathes before she leans in and kisses Steph again.